Days in the Life

04:00 - Dutiful subconscious wakes body up since still dialled in to Pakistani time. Get most of the way out of bed before realising that don't actually have to be up yet. Check Australia-West Indies Betfair prices on WAP. Fail to remember them. Go back to sleep.

05:55 - Alarms go off. Having laid out running clothes the night before and carefully pinned house key into shorts decide that it is far too cold to bother. Go back to sleep.

07:00 - Wake up fitfully. Remorse at not going for run reinforced when weigh self (on two sets of scales) - seven pounds heavier than a fortnight ago. Eek. Remember misery of fat self. Remember pleasure of female attention. Resolve to go running at 6 am in future. Suspect that this plan may contain a fatal flaw.

07:15 - Set off for work. Taking advantage of day/night game in India I have bought a travelcard so don't have to drive millstone-around-neck-car to work. Have found that driving to work at 3.20 am is just fine and dandy but generally then takes 1 and a half hours to drive home in the afternoon/evening, during which time famous Goldie bad temper boils over. Tend to end up calling most of West London "utter c*nts" at maximum volume. This seems to have little impact on their behaviour - probably because they are all utter c's.

07:17 - Listening to radio on mobile I learn that the Northern Line isn't working between Archway and High Barnet. I need to get to Woodside Park. About turn.

07:20 - 08:50 - My lovely-not-at-all-millstone Audi is very nice. Fits the posh white boy image. However I am massively frustrated by the traffic in Fulham. Boss is very understanding and agrees to collect data re: odds before/after toss in Ind-SA ODI.

In preparation for a blissful tube journey I have put a few new tracks onto the phone for Tube listening. Seems a shame to waste the effort and consequently I find Grace Jones's "Pull Up To My Bumper, Baby" catchy and hilarious enough to listen to 4 times in a row whilst ploughing around the North Circular, having quelled urge to carry on driving westwards on the A40 into the cold, clear blue. Strange effect of Grace's music is to make me believe that I am on some freeway in Los Angeles rather than the A406 between Park Royal and Staples Corner. Am ashamed at quite how suggestible I am.

08:51 - The twelth day in a row at work. Or something like that. South Africa have won the toss and would seem to have gained the substantial advantage that comes with that. SA have bowled first. Prices haven't moved that far. My boss sees SA as a bet at 2.20 (decimal odds - 6/5 in old money). Asks for my opinion. Still dazed and decaffinated I merely grunt back at him. Wish I had an opinion that would seem shrewd.

09:06 - India lose their pinch-hitting opener Pathan early on. The wicket is very grassy and offers a lot of assistance for seam bowling. Lay 2.10 India for a few grand. Quickly am surpassed and don't see a reason to lay bigger odds. Cancel outstanding offers.

09:11 - India lose another wicket. Bugger. Although position from earlier India lay now looks good am aftertiming self for not being more bullish. Also ignoring canny boss's advice to lay more. Know in heart of hearts that decision made at that time was the right one and that hindsight is 20/20.

11:10 - Reverse position by now backing Indiashire and laying SouthAfrishire. India seem to have put themselves in position to make a fair first-innings score. Can avail self of what appear to be decent value prices with which to trade. Value is the ONLY consideration for us.

14:45 - South Africa shat up by 10 wickets. A comprehensive dicking. Indiashire never in the hunt. You live and learn. 5k poorer. Not the end of the world. You can't eat value.

15:50-17:40 - Drive home in traffic. It does take aeons to cross London at this time of day. Try to relax with favourite Handel opera - Alcina. Almost works.

18:00 - Ex-gf calls. I had taken a rather lovely girl out to supper a couple of times over the past fortnight. But we're not flirting and there wouldn't seem to be a spark between us. Shame really because the more I come to know her the more attractive she is to me. Ex seems keen to boost my flagging self-confidence and get me in mood to pursue Rather-Lovely but can't resist boasting about her own ongoing and epic sex life - currently dating two people. She then accidentally-on-purpose asks me to compare her with current date. I say I don't want to make comparisons but when pressed say both solid 7s, in hope that this is a bland, vanilla answer. I NEVER think of people in this way but hope she'll wind her neck in.

Fat chance. Ex complains that she is actually an 8. Ex was, um, a big piece of kit and I can't resist an offhand wisecrack that ex 'was only an 8 by volume'. Ex explodes - calling me a f*cking c*nt. Hangs up. Then calls back to call me a c*nt again. I deserve it.


20:00 - Derive disproportionate satisfaction from getting the travelcard refunded, because had to argue for it. Yesterday I bet several hundred thousand. Now I am spending Friday night getting 8 quid back...

21:00 - Have to work later on. No-one around anyway. Have the same conversation as always with nice housemate T., then drink expresso at the same time as vodka from freezer. Tastes odd. Deduce that alcoholic cleaner has been at carefully hidden vodka then topped up with water. Fly into rage. Drink rest of water-vodka combo and decide to blog about day whilst watching classic poker/pool/gambling movie The Hustler. George C Scott's character Bert Gordon always reminds me of Andy Norman. Realise that it was 5 years ago that started playing poker and meeting these weird people. Look at contacts in mobile. Remember with a start that despite knowing next to nothing I have regular contact with Britain's shrewdest punters and that am actually the luckiest fish in the fish shop.

23:15 - Having failed to finish The Hustler I listen to Antony and The Johnsons session version of 'Fistfull of Love' for about the fourteenth time in the day. Amazing track. May have limited karaoke potential - a heartrending pean to rough sex sung by a transgender man with a multi-octave vocal range. Would have to be quite drunk before getting onstage and belting out "So I collect upon my body/ The hints, the little symbols of your devotion/ And I feel your fist/ And I know it's out of love."

Talk to Internationally Famous Person about Australia-West Indies day 2. Watch first session - I stand and applaud in my cold Battersea sitting room when Brian Charles Lara becomes the all time leading runscorer in Test cricket.

Lay the draw at avg 4.57 to lose 7 k, also bet WI at big prices (9.6 when dismissed for 405. This is a stupid price even for a team that is outclassed man-for-man. Luck can play a big part in cricket - WI should have a 15% chance of winning the game from here so betting them at 9.6 (10.41%) return is a +EV bet. Go to bed.

03:10 - Woken by call from drunk ex. Whichever fuckbuddy she had been out with that night had got himself arrested. 'Would I come round for a cuddle?' Like fuck I would. Am polite but flatly negative.

I will later agree with her that we can't be friends and that we will not speak again. I can't remember ever saying a deliberate farewell to someone before. I tell her the truth - it was lovely to know her and that I hope everything works out well.